Pink Kneazles
by xrosepetalsx
Summary: When Ron dies in an explosion that nearly kills Hermione as well, a whole new world is opened up to her where she learns to let Ron's death go and become whole once again.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Written from a prompt given by my boyfriend for a Luna/Hermione fic. Friendship fic that may develop into more.

Disclaimer: I do not own.

Summary: When Ron dies in an explosion that nearly kills Hermione as well, a whole new world is opened up to her where she learns to let Ron's death go and become whole once again.

**_Pink Kneazles_**

**By xrosepetalsx **

**- Chapter 1 -**

Hermione Granger isn't crazy, and she knows it, but everybody else in the world tries to convince her that she is.

They tell her that those things that she see's? They're all in her head, figments of her imagination, and all she has to do to make them go away is stop giving them any attention.

But she can't, because she finds that through this world, she is finally able to heal from all the wounds the war, and Ron's death, have given her.

And even when she does heal, sometimes she still sees Ron there, and she won't admit it to anyone, but that tiny little bit of unhealthy insanity in the back of her mind was her addiction.

* * *

Two years ago, there was an explosion, the level two offices of the ministry of magic destroyed in an attack by a new sect of witches and wizards deathly afraid of the corrupt force of the ministry.

73 dead, 49 injured, 12 lucky to be alive.

When the war ended, and clean-up and prosecution begun, those who still believed Voldemort had followers in the ministry controlling everything, letting off known, suspected, even convicted death eaters with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, caused riots that put more innocent to death than guilty.

They had calmed the riots, even put an end to many people's fears, but there were plenty left who couldn't be calmed. Thus the explosion.

Ron had died in that explosion. So many of Hermione's friends were content to pretend that she had too. But she hadn't.

She wished that she had.

* * *

Their friends had visited her in the hospital at first, crying over her limp and burned body, begging her to wake up. Harry never left her bedside, steady as a rock, unflinching.

No one ever heard him utter a word, never saw him shed a tear, and the nurse's worried over how little sleep he seemed to get.

Hermione suspected he regretted all that time wasted, just like all of the others, when he realized that she'd gone crazy.

Of course, he was the only one who never tried to convince her that she was, but she could see it in his eyes, could see it in the way he avoided her gaze when she insisted that what she was seeing was real.

After a while, she'd given up on him. He was the only friend she had left, and she was tired of seeing that look of pity in his eyes.

* * *

The first night she woke up in the hospital room, it was to Ron burning and screaming in agony at the end of her bed, and she launched herself out from under the covers without concern for the IV drip's and needles that were keeping her alive.

She didn't yet know they existed.

The nurses ran in when she started screaming, and didn't expect to see her crouched on the ground clutching at something that wasn't there. She screamed at them to help her, screamed at them that Ron was dying, to put out the fire, but they didn't listen, tearing at her arms and forcing her back in bed.

The floor was covered in her blood, but Hermione didn't notice. All she could see was Ron burning to death, mouth wide open in a scream that only she could hear, eyes pleading with her to help.

Harry clutched at her arm and tried to tell her that Ron was dead, but his mouth wouldn't open because the words were stuck in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**- Chapter 2 -**

Hermione lived in a cottage in a small wizarding town twenty miles outside of London, mostly bedridden when she realized that most of the time, that was where Ron would find her.

Sometimes, she worked in her garden, humming to herself in what she might imagine seemed crazy to anyone around her. Wispy creatures meandered all around her, an unearthly Sphinx lounged in her petunias, and she smiled to herself when the Kneazle's wandered up to her, eyes so big and faces so flat that she couldn't help but think of Crookshanks.

The first time she got caught petting one was the first time Harry cried.

She never touched the things she saw again.

* * *

At first, her eyes reeled at the things she saw. There was too much there that shouldn't be, all glossed over in pink and white, and shimmering where the light shown through them.

There were random trails that disappeared into nothingness, magical creatures, and occasionally, even some people; but the people never interacted with her, never even seemed to realize that she was there.

Not even Ron, though he came to visit her almost every night.

There were children who played with the occasional toy, or who plucked flowers out of the asphalt, but when Hermione tried to approach them, they'd fade out of existence, leaving only nothingness behind.

Even in this new world, Hermione found herself all alone.

* * *

Sometimes, Hermione went out shopping, but she was an outcast now, even among those who didn't know her.

Her bushy hair had become unkempt and dirty, parts of it patchy and short where the damage the fiendfyre had done was beyond repair. (She found it ironic that the fire they had escaped in the final battle would be Ron's undoing in the end.)

When she passed by on the streets, people drew their children close, and refused to look her in the eye. She heard mutterings of being the loony witch at the very edge of Tinworth, and it made her reluctant to leave her cottage.

Harry did most of her shopping. She didn't need much, didn't eat much.

She wore old clothing that covered the majority of her skin, because she knew that would only scare the people who saw her even more. She was covered in scars from the damage the fiendfyre had done to her body, and the veins in her arms were grotesque and protruding were she'd ripped the IV's out on a nightly basis trying to get to Ron.

Her skin was pale, and her body thin, and she knew she was sickly and weak, but there was little she could do about it.

The sickness was of her mind, and every night and sometimes all day, she'd lie awake just to see Ron visit her. It didn't matter that he was burning to death in front of her eyes. She thought it just punishment for surviving where Ron had not.

* * *

They told Harry that her mind had snapped, that there was nothing they could do for her, and Hermione wondered sometimes why it was so.

Ron's death had unraveled her where the war had not, and she guessed it had to have just been the final straw.

The things she could see had scared her at first, but she'd come to accept them.

They were her reality now, and no matter what anyone told her, there was no way she was ever going to change that. She didn't know if they were real or not, but she could honestly say that she wasn't crazy.

Maybe her mind _had _snapped, but she wasn't crazy.

She was just broken.


	3. Chapter 3

**- Chapter 3 –**

One day, Hermione was sitting on her front porch in a rocking chair Mr. Weasley had built her before Ron had died, with a blanket Mrs. Weasley had knitted her around the same time splayed over her lap. On the road leading to her house there was a field of Harebell flowers that had never, and would never, exist there for real.

There was something among the flowers that she couldn't see, but she didn't move closer to find out what. It would only disappear before she could figure out what it was, and her body was weak that day.

She stared blankly as the pale blue flowers swayed in the nonexistent breeze, and shivered as the Winter chill began to settle in.

A head too solid and pale to belong in this other world suddenly appeared, and at first, Hermione thought it would be Harry coming up the drive to visit her; but then she saw the blonde hair cascading over feminine shoulders, and realized that this person was carrying a bouquet of the flowers that didn't truly exist.

Luna Lovegood set the bouquet at her feet and smiled a distant smile, and then she was gone, leaving Hermione to wonder if she had ever really existed at all, or if she really was going crazy after all.

* * *

That night, Harry come over with more bags of groceries than he could carry, but instead of being surprised by this, Hermione almost expected it.

Sometimes, Harry had to go out on long, dangerous missions, sometimes undercover, and he couldn't take care of her. This one was long overdue.

The groceries were largely non-perishables, bought in large quantities that would last long after Harry returned. He stared at her with a sympathetic look when she only smiled and nodded at the lame excuses he gave her for why no one could stop by and look after her while he was away.

When he left, Hermione felt sweet relief, for Harry liked to make random visits, even in the middle of the night, to make sure Hermione wasn't doing anything that would deteriorate her mental and physical state anymore.

She longed for the days where she could lay in bed curled up with the nonexistent creatures that often visited her, longed for the days where she could imagine Ron's fingers caressing her body in ways that no one else could do anymore, and longed for the days of long uninterrupted sleep in her dark bedroom where Harry didn't belong.

She could lose week's in that state. Week's that took her ever closer to her death. And it was sweet bliss, dreaming of lying in Ron's arms, the way his lips felt against hers, his calloused fingers against her skin, his mouth on her breast -

Hermione moaned, and her hands moved down her waist. Ron appeared in front of her, burning, as always, and when she plunged her fingers inside herself, his screams urged her on.

* * *

It was days into a long sleep when she was awoken again, only it was unexpected and confusing this time. It wasn't rough and bright like Harry's wake up call's were, when he ripped open the curtains and shook her shoulders to get her out of bed, but gentle and loving, with a palm against her face.

It felt like Ron's fingers on her face, where a hand held her cheek and calloused fingers stroked her skin, and a hot wash rag settled against her forehead. She mumbled confusedly when her eyes wouldn't open.

Someone shushed her, and she couldn't make out who it was. She was content to pretend it was Ron who was touching her, content to pretend that everything had just been one long, nasty dream.

But she knew it was all in her head. Her eyes were glued shut, her mind groggy, and though she longed to stay up to feel those fingers caressing her face, she knew it was only moments before she'd be under again.


	4. Chapter 4

**- Chapter 4 -**

The next time Hermione woke up, there was no one around, no sensation of previous touches, not even a smell left behind.

She was content to believe it had been nothing, that she'd cracked sometime during her long, dull sleep, that she'd imagined ever feeling anything at all, but when she sat up, she felt those longing sobs fill her chest in a way that hadn't happened since she'd woken up in the hospital without Ron two years ago.

She covered her face with her hands and tried to imagine nothing at all. She didn't want to remember the feel of Ron's hand on her face, or his lips on her skin, or the smell of his breath in the morning, because for the first time in a year and half, sobs threatened to break out of her and reduce her to nothing more than ash.

The last time that had happened, she'd wilted into one of those broken flowers you see after a fire, that hasn't quite been burned out just yet, but the minute you blow on it, flies away in a million tiny particles, never to be put back together again.

* * *

Hermione doesn't know what day it is, if she's missed Christmas, or if it's yet to come, but she knows Harry's still away or he would have been her rude awakening, instead of the insane dream she'd had who knows how long ago, but which had brought her out of her state of numbness she'd held onto for so long.

She wished the dream had never happened, because now she just feel's hollow, and when a Kneazle slinks up to her from that other place, reminding her so strongly of Crookshanks her heart wants to break, she breaks her vow of never touching anything of this other world ever again, and strokes it's fur as it purr's and rubs up against her.

* * *

She heads outside for the first time in forever, and doesn't expect to see the snow melted on the ground around her, or the flowers threatening to push up through the ground. Its spring time and Hermione is afraid, because she's never slept for that long before, and it scares her that so much time has passed.

Ron shows up in front of her, burning alive in the middle of a puddle, and Hermione breaks down in humiliating crying as a group of children passes by. Her sobs are loud and horrendous, and the children scurry away, scared but excited to spread more rumors about the crazy witch living at the edge of town.

She doesn't know what happened to her numbness, or her contentment to watch Ron die, but she scurries up from her position on the ground and turns her back on Ron for the first time since he'd died, running away from the love of her life burning alive.

* * *

She's sitting in her rocking chair again a couple of days later when they arrive. The field of Harebell flowers appears again, out of nowhere, only this time it's more fairy like than even before.

White and pink seeps in and around the flowers, masking the pale blue color with a fine pink fog that dissipates gently. She's so used to this apparition that it doesn't even faze her.

The Kneazle's arrive first, just a few here and there, the one that reminds Hermione of Crookshanks, a patchy one of to it's right, and far off at the edge of the field, a smoky one cleaning it's paws.

Then appear the bowtruckles, the red caps and hinkypunks, and even a few centaurs staring up at the sky, as if it were night time and they could see the stars.

She see's the fwooper's next, and the Griffin, the Jobberknoll's, and the Nifler's, the Nundu, and the Sphinx, and Hermione stands up, because suddenly she realizes that something must be happening. Something must be going on, because this is the first time she's seen this many magical creatures appear at once.

She's new to this world of unseen things, but she listens to her instincts here to make up for her lack of knowledge, and this is not normal.

She prays that Ron won't show up, burning alive and screaming again, because she just can't take it anymore.

Instead, Luna shows up, and it's enough to make tears come to her eyes, because once again she's touching the things that don't exist, leading a unicorn along by her fingertips. And Hermione no longer feels alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**- Chapter 5 –**

"It took me so long to find you," Luna says, petting the Unicorn when she comes to a stop in front of Hermione. "And when I did, I knew you weren't ready."

"Ready for what?" Hermione asks, and when she speaks, her voice is so gravely and cracked from disuse that she doesn't even recognize it as her own.

"Ready to be properly introduced to this world," Luna says, and her voice is just as wispy and unfocused as it's always been, and yet it fits in so perfectly with this new world.

"No," Hermione responds, because she doesn't know what else to say, and she doesn't want to get immersed in another world when it's hard enough living in her own.

Luna laughs, and turns to pet the unicorn, smiling as it preens beneath her touch.

"You don't have to, you know. But your refusal sounded rather weak to me."

Hermione doesn't know how to respond to that, so when Luna offers her hand, she takes it and allows herself to be helped onto the back of the Unicorn.

* * *

"When you make contact with this other world, like while you're sitting on this unicorn, or when you touch what doesn't truly exist, you disappear from our world," Luna says as she leads Hermione through forests and burning villages and lake's and town's that she's never seen before "and arrive in this one."

Hermione remembers when she touched that Kneazle in the backyard and Harry started crying. It was because she had disappeared, and hadn't known it. It was because she hadn't known to stop looking in her world, to stop seeing Harry, and see this other world, that was still so pink and hazy and magical even when she was totally immersed in it.

* * *

"What is this place?" Hermione asks when they've been moving along in silence for a while, Luna content to smile happily at the things around her and wait for Hermione to ask her questions, rather than explain all that she knows.

Hermione appreciates this tact, because she doesn't think she'd be able to handle too much information thrown at her all at once.

"It's a place for those who have lost someone very important to them, to go when they're unable to cope."

"Then how come so few people know about this place?"

"Because most people have someone anchoring them to our world when they lose their loved ones. Ron was your anchor, but he's gone. So you don't have an anchor."

* * *

Hermione is amazed by the things that she sees in this new world, by how many things can coexist in one world without disturbing one another, or destroying the other's existence. Everything coexists so peacefully, and Hermione doesn't understand.

In one place, she sees two towns stacked on top of each other, and a city on top of them both, and everyone walks around like nothing is out of the ordinary, like there aren't people walking around in the sky above them, or sirens piercing the morning air. She wonders how one fire doesn't melt through the boundaries of one town and into another, or how the smoke doesn't seep past its atmosphere and into the other.

"Why is everything able to coexist here? It's like no one knows anything else exists other than themselves."

"They don't." Luna says simply, and Hermione has to re-evaluate everything she knows.

* * *

"It's the job of those who do know this place exists, to explain it to those who are new to it," Luna says when they've been quiet for a while. "When we've been exposed to this world, we're able to sense when something unfamiliar pierces it's walls and arrives in it, and one of us has to do something about it.

"I think they're angry with me for taking so long to come to you."

"Why did you wait so long?" Hermione asks, thinking of the long months of solitude and loneliness she'd waiting through to get to this point.

"Because you weren't ready."

"You said that already. But how did you know I wasn't ready?"

"I visited you. Many times. I thought you were ready when I brought you the flowers, but when I came closer, your aura was still red."

"My aura?" Hermione asks, and she touches her skin as if she'll be able to feel what Luna is talking about.

"Focus your eyes. Do you see my aura? It's pink, like this world here," Luna says, and when Hermione tells herself to see, she does see. "I was waiting for you to be pink, and for that, I had to wait for you to no longer be numb."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Hermione says then, because suddenly, she knows it was Luna in her room that night, breaking her long sleep to comfort her with a washcloth and a warm hand on her cheek. She knows it was Luna who had come to her when she'd woken with night sweats and a fever, and she knew it was because she'd finally broken her long state of numbness.

It wasn't what she'd thought was a dream that had brought her back to life.

"Yes," Luna says simply, and they continue on their way.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm starting to feel a little strain in how this world is forming itself. As this was an experiment in writing, do feel free to give me any critiques.

**- Chapter 6 -**

"Why is that I can touch the creatures here, but not the humans?" Hermione asks when they're back on her porch in the real world.

"We can't interact with other humans," Luna says simply. "They're on a different plane, have a different mentality than the creatures here, and therefore we are unable to come into contact with them."

"But…why? If we come to this place to heal…then how come we can't connect with the very reason we need to heal?"

"Would you like some lemonade?" Luna asks instead of answering. Hermione nods her head and Luna leaves her perch on the stool besides Hermione's rocking chair to go inside.

Hermione stares out at the dragon lapping water from a pink pond, and remembers that day during the war when they'd ridden one out of Gringott's. She remembers the feel of being pressed up against Ron, and smiles even while her eyes grow watery.

The dragon turns to her, sensing her interest, and moves slowly to her porch. It settles down in a big red heap at the bottom of her steps, and Hermione's puttering heart rate slows when it gives out a big yawn and goes to sleep.

"They're here to help you," Luna says when she reappears with a pitcher of lemonade and two cups.

Hermione accepts a cup quietly, gazing at the dragon and holding on to her memories of being with Ron.

"If you could speak to Ron, hold him, spend the rest of your life with him while he's in one world, and you're in another, wouldn't you?" Luna asks. Hermione turns to her, the tears that had been welling up in her eyes before finally spilling over. They were answer enough.

"That's why you can't interact with him. You would never heal."

* * *

Luna tucks Hermione into bed that night, quiet as she had been all afternoon after their painful conversation of why she couldn't touch Ron. Her hands are soft and smooth, nothing like Ron's hard and calloused palms, but Hermione doesn't complain. Can't complain, because Luna's tender touch feels so good after all the roughness she's been put through by nurse's who grew tired of dealing with her.

"Nothing in that world truly exists, does it?" Hermione asks as Luna sits on the bed besides her.

"No," Luna responds, and her voice is even more tender now than it had been when she'd broken Hermione's heart just a few hours ago.

"It's all just –"

"A memory."

* * *

_"This world, it's made up of a thousand memories, all left behind by those who have died, or lived, and couldn't let go. Nothing here is real. Nothing here is alive, or able to be reached outside of any irrational plane. This world, it was built for those who lost their anchor to their own world, so that they could learn to survive without that anchor._

_"My only regret, in having created this world, is how it is built. The last memory, that last living moment, of a dead human, is recorded here. Nothing else exists except for that last living moment, that last memory that a loved one can recall, and it turned this place into a living nightmare._

_"So I created the magical creatures. They do not truly exist either. They are made up of the memories of remembered magical creatures, but they are able to become more real than the memories of humans, and towns, and cities that have burned or been destroyed or died. Because they were created from many memories, they have life. _

_"And they are the only true comfort I was able to offer to those who would come to this world."_

* * *

When Hermione wakes up, Luna is curled up beside her with a peaceful smile on her face, and Hermione understands. Something came to her last night, and it explained to her what this world truly is, and where it came from.

She sits up, tired and more exhausted than when she'd gone to bed last night. Harry still hasn't come home from his mission, and Hermione worries over him, because she doesn't want to lose Harry, doesn't think he deserves to die in the thick of another fight. Not when he's already lost so much, and gained so little. Not when he saved so many people from the horrendous world that Voldemort would have built.

She climbs out of bed, and when she stares out her window, she see's nothing but her own world, and the garden she so painstakingly takes care of. No Harry coming up the drive like she'd hope to find, no magical creatures wondering about, no visions of the memories left behind from lost dead ones, or destroyed towns.

She starts to panic, because she's not ready to leave this world behind, and when her heart rate speeds up, Ron appears behind her, screaming and burning alive.

Hermione drops to her knees too, screaming and trying not to throw up, because she can't stand seeing this, can't stand seeing Ron's last moments on Earth. They're too painful, because while Ron had been burning alive, Hermione had been on some other floor trying to gain better rights for house elfs, and that meant Ron had been all alone when he died.

Luna arrives and holds Hermione tight, hiding Ron from her view, and Hermione sobs into her shoulder because she doesn't know what she'd do if she were all alone again.


	7. Chapter 7

**- Chapter 7 -**

"I was only supposed to introduce you to this world. I wasn't supposed to stay," Luna says when they're eating breakfast.

"Why not?" Hermione asks with trepidation in her voice, because she doesn't know what she would have done if Luna hadn't been there this morning.

"Because it could interfere with your healing process if I stay."

"How so?" Hermione asks, but she thinks she already knows the answer.

"There are some people, like me, who stay in this world longer than others. I've been able to see this world since I was a little girl, as has my father. When we lost my mother, we lost our anchor, and we came here," Luna says as she slices through the pancake on her plate.

"You can't heal properly if there is someone else alive with you in this other world for too long. A day or two, that's okay, but any longer than that, and you began to form an attachment. That attachment keeps you from wanting to leave this world, because here, you can be with your anchor in some form, and you can keep your humanity and your sanity, because there is someone else with you to keep you sane."

Hermione doesn't know what to say to that, so they eat in silence for a while. She fears that this means that Luna will leave after breakfast, and Hermione will be back to facing Ron alone. She doesn't know how to heal in this world, only knows that that was why it was built, and she can't imagine going back to being alone.

She can't imagine Luna leaving, and Harry returning, and having to pretend that she isn't crazy because she knows Harry will never understand.

Then Hermione remembers what Luna said about being able to see this world since she was a little girl.

"What does it mean, to be stuck here, like…like you are?" Hermione asks, only she fears that this will offend Luna and she will lose her company far too soon to please her.

"It doesn't really mean anything. I coexist in our world, and the other world, and I am most often the greeter of new arrivals like you. It doesn't happen as often as you would think. Few people come through here. It's a lonely place, now that my father has passed away. I think, the only reason I still keep my sanity, is because of how long I have been here."

* * *

Hermione spends the rest of the afternoon with Luna playing with the creatures from the other world, but Hermione finds it hard to enjoy that time spent with Luna because she knows that Luna will be leaving soon.

She tries hard to keep it from her mind, but the knowledge taints the day in dark browns and smudges of black where there is usually only hazy pink, and makes it hard for Hermione to keep from crying when her special Kneazle comes up to her as the sun begins to set.

It goes unsaid, but Hermione wouldn't mind being stuck in this world with Luna if it meant that Luna would stay. If it meant that someone believed in her and didn't think she was crazy.

They eat dinner in silence, as Luna seems to sense Hermione's melancholy, and Luna tucks Hermione back into bed again, sliding the blankets up over her breasts and pressing the covers into her sides so that it holds tight, and keeps the warmth in.

Luna sings to her, quiet and soulful, and Hermione tries to keep her eyes open, but around the second run through, her eyes slide close and she falls into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

When morning comes, Hermione wakes in a state of panic, tears already sliding down her cheeks, because she's alone again and she just can't take it anymore.

Sobs rise in her throat and she wants to throw up, wants to scream, wishes that she'd died in that fire with Ron. She's so distraught that she can't even think to try and force herself back to sleep, can't even think to force herself back into her state of numbness, because it's all just too much.

She sobs, and hiccups, and finally, to her surprise, someone wraps their arms around her and pets her hair to try and calm her.

When she struggles to pull away, and the person lets her, she find's Luna's face, and her kind eyes, and realizes that she isn't alone.

* * *

From then on, Luna stays in Hermione's cottage, taking care of her and nursing her back to health. Every day is tinged with a nervous despair that tomorrow, Luna will be gone, and every morning that Hermione wakes up and can't find Luna in her room, she cries until Luna comes and finds her.

Hermione doesn't ask, and Luna doesn't explain, but they spend each day in each other's company, despite the fact that this is a practice that's taboo.

Hermione doesn't care. She just can't lose Luna, can't lose the person who is quickly becoming her new anchor to this world, to both worlds, because she is the only person who doesn't look at Hermione and think that she is crazy.

When Ron arrives, Hermione still finds herself sobbing. But she isn't alone anymore. Luna is with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**- Chapter 8 -**

The months grow warmer, and Luna and Hermione grow closer. Harry doesn't return from his mission, and Hermione grows more worried, but the worry sits in the back of her mind, only really surfacing when Hermione is alone and trying hard to think of anything other than Ron and his figure burning alive besides her.

She cries, and tries not to look at him, tries to block him out and think of Harry instead. She doesn't know how she's supposed to heal, and get better, and let go of Ron, when all that she feel's when he arrives is horror and pain at his loss and the terrible, tragic way in which he died.

She can hardly remember the days when she was happy to see Ron appear to her, doesn't remember how she was able to touch herself and get off on his screams that now were only able to bring her to tears.

Luna tells her that it's normal, that she's just moving through the stages. One day, she'll find comfort in seeing Ron again, even though now that day seems impossible. Luna tells her a lot of things, and Hermione listens.

"How come I never see your mom here?" Hermione asks one day, when they're out in Hermione's garden, taking care of her flowers.

"She doesn't appear very often anymore. Only when I feel the most sadness."

"Will I get to see her one day?" Hermione asks, and she feels this unfamiliar flutter in heart when she thinks of seeing the woman who gave birth to Luna, this wonderful person that she's grown to love.

"Maybe. If you want to next month, on the anniversary."

* * *

Hermione doesn't know what it is about Luna, but one day, she finds herself smiling just to see her cooking dinner in the kitchen, or working out in the garden while Hermione is resting in her room, and the unfamiliar sensation makes her heart ache and tears flood her eyes and she cries and she cries until Ron arrives, and when Ron finally appears, the tears stop and she looks at him with a new expression, an expression that she's never experienced before.

She looks at him as if she's okay, and as if it's okay that he's dead and she's alive, because she'll always love him, and it's time she moved on with her life.

It was time that she begin to live for him, in his memory and with his love inside of her. She would live the way that he would want her to live. Happily.

* * *

Luna smiles at her when she comes to bed and Hermione is watching Ron with love in her eyes, instead of tears, and Hermione feel's that warmness again that makes her uneasy and uncomfortable because of its unfamiliarness.

She curls up on her side and let's Luna tuck her into bed, and sighs when Luna slides into bed with her, beside her but never touching her.

She misses the feeling of someone holding her, misses the feeling of Ron holding her, but the hole in her chest that used to ache something fierce at the very thought of Ron's touch is fading, and though it still aches, Hermione thinks it will be alright. Hermione thinks it will be alright if she lets someone else touch her.

* * *

Hermione grows anxious and tired and frustratingly aroused all at the same time over the course of the next couple of weeks, because now that she's found some sense of okayness with Ron's death, her needs have come surging back, and there are so many of them she doesn't know what to do with them.

So she works longer in the garden, and takes long walks through the town, wearing prettier, softer clothing that still covers all her ruined skin, and wears hats over her hair to hide the damaged ends. Her skin has grown healthier, tanner, and her body plumper in all the right places.

She can never consider herself attractive again, but she feel's healthier, and that's all that really matters.

She buys puzzles and yarn, stays up longer and sleeps less and less to work on her side projects, because she just can't lie there anymore. She has to get up, and move. She has to do _something_ because she just can't take it anymore.

She finds joy in seeing Ron again, but she doesn't touch herself when he's there anymore. Can't look at his burning body and find pleasure.

Instead, she waits until Luna is gone or busy and Ron has stopped burning to plunge her fingers inside of herself and touch her breasts the way that Ron used to do. And sometimes, she tries to imagine someone else touching her, and the only person who comes to mind is Luna.

* * *

Her fingers are wet and her body twitching with intense desire as she tries to get herself off one evening, and she doesn't know when Luna will arrive again, doesn't know if Harry will come home, or if Ron will start screaming again, but she's almost there, and she's so close, and she just wants to come, just wants to pretend she's beautiful again. Just wants to pretend that Ron is still with her, and helping her, and maybe one day they can have a little girl or a little boy and –

And the door opens and Hermione stops moving, her joints locked up and her eyes starting to tear up again, because she's never allowed herself to be caught before. Worse, she's never thought of what Ron and her children would have looked like before.

She can see them now, and she can't get them out of her mind. Their fiery red hair, heavy curls and freckled faces, their beautiful eyes…Ron's eyes.

Luna hovers over her, and her eyes are soft as they look at Hermione's naked body like she's beautiful, and Hermione's tears leak over because these two images, overlayed on top of each other, Ron and her beautiful children, and Luna…Luna looking at her the was she's been dying to be looked at for weeks, are both almost too much to handle.

Luna kisses her, and Hermione lets her, because she's wanted this. She's wanted someone else to touch her for so long, wanted someone's hands on her other than her own, wanted to be loved and cared for and adored and – oh, Luna's fingers are inside of her and her eyes snap open and she just let's go.


	9. Chapter 9

****A/N: Second to final chapter.

**- Chapter 9 -**

When the anniversary comes, Luna wakes her up gently at seven in the morning, and helps her dress in cool clothes that will still cover Hermione from head to toe, the way she likes to dress when she has to go out in public.

Hermione is wide awake, but scared, because she doesn't want to be in the way. She doesn't want to be an annoyance in Luna and her mother's reunion. She wants to be what Luna has been to her the past month; someone there to comfort her when the pain gets to be too much.

But Luna looks happy, rather than morose or somber, the way Hermione would expect her to look. She looks happy to be seeing her mother, calm in the light of whatever she might have to see today when they get outside.

Hermione doesn't know if Luna's last memory is of her mother being blown to pieces in the explosion she knows Mrs. Lovegood died in, or if her last memory is of something bright and happy. She doesn't know if the last memory this world records is of her death, or of what Luna remembers most strongly.

She hopes it's the latter. She wants what Luna used to see all the time to be happy, and not sad and heartbreaking and terrible like the last moments of Ron's life.

Hermione can see the sadness in Luna's expression though. If she really looks, she can see it in the corner of her eyes, and the tiny pull at the corners of her mouth.

* * *

Luna takes Hermione's hand when her mom appears, and it's just as Hermione had hoped. Mrs. Lovegood isn't being blown to pieces in an explosion, or screaming in pain.

Luna's mother is working in her garden, wearing a beautiful flowered dress, with a green smock wrapped around her waist and gardening tools filling the pockets.

It's a happy memory, and Luna is smiling, but there are tears spilling down her face, and Hermione lays her head against Luna's shoulder and holds both of her hands tightly in her own, comforting silently as Luna's mother begins to sing.

She sings the same song Luna sing's to her, and it makes Hermione want to cry just from the sentiment of the action, and suddenly, all Hermione wants to do is bury herself inside of Luna and live there forever, cradling her heart and keeping it safe from sadness and danger.

They stay there all morning and afternoon, siting at the bottom of Hermione's steps watching Luna's mother garden and sing, garden and sing, the same song, the same scene, over and over again.

* * *

Luna buries herself into Hermione's chest when they go to bed that night, cuddling with Hermione for the first time ever, and Hermione's heart sings at the pleasure and the comfort that simple action brings. She hugs Luna close and drags the covers up over them, and they sleep early, seven o'clock, for the first time in weeks, and Hermione hopes they can sleep late.

She's been wanting Luna to hold her, so badly it's made her body ache, but she hasn't wanted to ask. That night in her room, when she'd gotten caught, had seemed like a fluke. Hermione hadn't thought it would happen again. And so far it hadn't, but it didn't even matter anymore, because for tonight, she had Luna in her arms, and she couldn't ask for me.

* * *

Hermione takes a leap.

In the morning, she wakes up before Luna does, and lays there cradling her in her arms for as long as she can take it, and then she leans down and presses her lips to Luna's in the softest kiss, and her world blows apart again.

Luna wakes up to Hermione sobbing again, and Ron is laying on top of them, screaming and burning and breaking Hermione's heart, because suddenly she feels like she's betrayed him, and it's a worse betrayal than surviving when he had not.

* * *

It doesn't stop.

The crying, the burning, the screaming…it doesn't stop. All day long Hermione lays there, and sometimes she's screaming too. Sometimes, she tears at her skin, and it takes all of Luna's strength to hold her down when this happens, because Hermione just wants to die, just wants to bleed and break and fall apart.

She can't believe what she's done, can't believe the pain she's caused Ron, again, and again, and again, and part of her want's to throw Luna out, but the other part of her never wants to let go again.

That final desire just makes it all worse.

* * *

Hermione wakes up, and there's a Kneazle on her chest. Luna is gone, missing, and part of Hermione is relieved, but the other part of her is tortured by this fact.

She reaches down and pets the Kneazle, staring blankly at her ceiling, and wonders why she isn't dead yet. If not from the fire, then from the two years of malnutrition and wasting away, and if not from that, then from the betrayal that she feel's reverberate throughout her heart.

Because at first, it had just been a need for companionship, and then it had been one night of sex. But the kiss had broken it, because it had been a kiss of adoration and love, and it meant so much more than anything else.

"He doesn't want you to never love again," the Kneazle says, licking its paw and cleaning behind its ears.

Hermione looks down, for a moment thinking that she's gone crazy, but she accepts it, just as she's accepted everything else this world has shown her. It's not such a far reach, from Luna's mother singing, and it was never a strange thing for a Kneazle to talk.

She'd just assumed the creatures would never interact with her directly.

"How could you know? I left him…I let him die without me, and now…and now I've even taken away my heart."

"You still love him, don't you?" the Kneazle asks, and Hermione starts to cry again, because of course she does. "Then you didn't take your heart from him. You just chose to share it with someone else as well."

It takes some time, but Hermione starts to understand again.


	10. Chapter 10

**- Chapter 10 -**

By Summer, Hermione is okay again. Not okay, okay, but okay enough that she can hold hands with Luna and stroll through the garden, share a chaste kiss here and there, and see Ron without falling apart again.

In fact, Hermione has grown in a few ways. Now, when she sees Ron, she talks to him, and though that may seem like something so much worse than when she'd just grieved him, it's better, because now Hermione can tell him that she still loves him, and she understands that Ron will never begrudge her happiness.

Even if it is with Luna.

* * *

"I miss you," Hermione says one day, when she's alone in the garden and Luna has gone off to the grocery store. "I miss you every day that you're gone."

The breeze is calm and warm, and the sun beats down on the back of her neck, but she doesn't mind. It's nice to be outside, feeling a combination of coolness and warmth all over her body.

"I wish you hadn't had to die." Hermione stares at the sky, and there's this little cloud, and it's pink and hazy and can only belong to that other world where Ron appears to her less and less often now.

It starts to take on a shape, and Hermione watches it, and talks to Ron, because that's her comfort now.

"I wish I could still hold you in my arms. I love you, Ron. And, maybe I'm happy with Luna too, and maybe I love her too, but I'll always love you, and miss the feel of your arms wrapped around me."

"He knows," the Kneazle says from its spot at her feet, rubbing up against her shin. The cloud morphs into Ron's face, and he's smiling, and Hermione smiles too, even though tears are dripping down her face.

"I know he does."

* * *

Luna kisses her, and it's soft and sweet tender in every way, so Hermione deepens it, threading her fingers through Luna's hair softly and tugging her closer. Luna doesn't question it, just kisses her deeper, and holds Hermione's cheek tenderly in her hand.

Hermione leads her to the bed, and when she pulls away, Luna's face is calm and serene and _knowing_, so Hermione unbuttons her shirt and drags her on top of her without a word, and lets Luna know that she's ready.

The happiness is evident in Luna's features, and Hermione just knows that she loves her.

"I love you too," Hermione says, and Luna smiles.

* * *

That's how Harry finds her. Almost a year later, he comes home, and he's battle scarred but whole. Hermione wakes up when she hears him shuffle into the room loudly, and then pause. She opens her eyes and Harry is staring at her in astonishment, because Hermione is wrapped around Luna, barley under the covers, and it's very obvious what they've been doing.

Harry doesn't say a word, just turns his back on her and leaves the room, and Hermione can see the hurt in his eyes.

She's not sure if it's because it took someone who had never been that close to them to heal her, or if it's because in his eyes too, she's betrayed Ron.

She'll never be able to explain that world that she sees to him, but she thinks she can explain what she's done.

So she follows him, untangling herself from Luna's warm body and yanking her clothes on. It comes to her only then how ugly she must look, and she wonders why Harry didn't look at her in disgust. How Luna didn't look at her in disgust. She scrubs her hands up and down her arms, and starts to cry.

"You're beautiful," Luna says, and when Hermione turns back to her, she believes her.

* * *

"How could you betray Ron like that?" Harry asks, and his face is devastated and hurt from where he stands at the bottom of her porch steps.

"I didn't betray him…" Hermione says softly, and a fire burns in her eyes. "I didn't betray him," she says again, only this time her voice is stronger, more like it used to be, before Ron died.

Harry stares at her, and his eyes are confused. He doesn't know what to make of Hermione now. Recognizes her, yet doesn't.

"Then what do you call that?"

"Moving on."

* * *

Hermione still sees Ron in her and Luna's world sometimes, and she's glad, because she can never fully let him go, but she has moved on. She feels whole again, and when she sees Ron, she can look at him and smile, and she can talk to him and be okay.

Sometimes she still feels like it was her fault that he died, and sometimes she still feels like she deserves to watch him burn alive, but Luna is always there for her when she needs her, and that's all that really matters.

Because Hermione was never crazy. And she still isn't.


End file.
